vor | Fifth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[Almost two weeks spent in Malnosso captivity and what does Gregor have to show for it?

Lots and lots of band-aids, mostly. Also a minor cold that has turned into a chesty cough.

Instead of any great torture, drugs, or whatever he'd been expecting, the Malnosso mostly took DNA samples. Blood samples. Tissue samples. He's from further in Earth-universe's future than most besides Ivan, so maybe his specific point in human evolution was of interest. He understands the "lab rat" metaphor pretty well now. There hadn't been a lot of space in his cell, so he's a little stiff and sore. At least the hallucinations are gone. That had been the worst part--having to assure himself that this was a normal reaction to solitary confinement. He slowly heaves himself to his feet, blindly scrabbling for his journal. Writing is not easy with all his bandaged fingertips, so he speaks, sounding hoarse, slightly congested, and exhausted.]

Ivan. [A pause. ] Buffy. Adele. Whoever's...interested, this is Greg. I'm back. [He coughs a couple of times, fairly hard.] The Malnosso...anyway, I'm fine. It...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm heading home now. Did someone take care of my horse?

[He'll take about fifteen minutes to walk home from his spot in the woods.]

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Then what are they hiding, I wonder?

What they use to make their newest version of droids, for one. We've some idea- but it came at a price.

...You realize those people were allowed to escape so they could relay that information, don't you?

Which makes the fact that it was more or less planted information all the more questionable. I can't help but think there's more than one faction at work in the organization aside from the rogue branch we know of.

Either way, the information isn't as useful as they would have us believe. Good to know, but it doesn't give us a real advantage if we were meant to know it. They're playing a game. The trick is to learn the rules, then take a third option.

The rules are as fluid as the physics in the village. It makes it somewhat difficult to pin them down.

And we don't have people doing so full-time?

[He looks...a little disturbed at the realization that there really is no equivalent of ImpSec, or even Service Security, here in Luceti.]

Individuals that do so on their own time, most likely, but no formal organization.

Individuals working on their own time do not make an adequate system. Why do we have an organization for cheering people up, but not one for intelligence?

Edited 2012-08-13 20:26 (UTC)

Because our sources are limited, our priorities skewed, and the age range in the village tilted heavily to those younger than twenty.

[A tiny, tiny smile at those last two.]

Youth and a lack of resources are no excuse.

[Says he who was an emperor at the age of four.]

No, it's not.

[A half smile all her own.]

Those of a mind to do the digging are also the more cautious. Some people do not want to leave- some people are fine with the Malnosso despite their experiences here. Knowing who to trust enough to work with in this is vital, and no one here is certain.

He who assumes everything is a lie is at least as mistaken as he who assumes everything is true. [Did that come from Cordelia? Probably.] Nobody inside such an organization could be blind to any internal problems. Traitors could be weeded out. [And this room is undoubtedly bugged, so he sighs.] But you'd have to get everyone to cooperate first.

A project for when you are feeling better, I think. You don't sound well Greg, and you need your rest.

[Getting anyone to cooperate would be something to work at- it'd be even more difficult if they found themselves to be clever. Brilliance is often paired with an ego to match; and it's not something she wants to deal with right now.

Adele reaches over to rub Greg's shoulder.]

Sleep. I'll lock up on my way out.

[He nods, oddly relaxed by her touch. She's almost like Cordelia's mothering instinct mixed with Simon's acerbic attitude toward life. He even offers a tiny smile.]

If the cough becomes worse? Call me.

[One last squeeze of his shoulder and she stands, tucking her bag under her arm and making certain to lock the door before she makes her way out.]

Thank you.

[It's spoken from his position on the couch as she leaves, while she can still hear.]

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